


We've Gotta Live

by oxymoronassoc



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoronassoc/pseuds/oxymoronassoc
Summary: Circa "Exodus II"Originally written 7/20/2007





	We've Gotta Live

They’d offered her some space, so that she might rest, they said, but really, they were a little scared of her, more than they’d ever been when she’d gone into a drunken rage or lost a bet. That’d been a flash of lightening, quick and hot, like the anger she brought it with, but this was something else, something as vast and cold and unknown as space. She knew the way to Earth, and the wisest amongst them weren’t sure is this was a blessing or a curse.

But she hadn’t taken their hints. She’d never been much for subtlety. So they skirted around her, treading more carefully than they have ever even on her hangover days. She hasn’t seen it at first; it’d made her confused, then angry. She’d shouted there was no reason for this, she was still one of them, but that had just made it more strained as everyone tried to pretend it was all okay. She gave up playing cards in the rec room; she was tired them trying not to stare. 

 

He found her in the corridor. He paused, watching as her eyes skimmed the photos. She raised a hand, touching one, fingers tracing the figure. It was herself. 

He must’ve made a noise then of some sort because she turned the, staring at him with solemn eyes.

“You must’ve thought I died,” she said stupidly, but it was the only thing her brain could process.

“What else was there to think?” he said quietly, voice cracking only a little. He tried to ignore the bottle she held in one hand.

She followed his eyes, ignoring the question. “I haven’t drunk any,” she murmured in a slightly defensive tone, turning back towards the photos. The “yet” hung between them in one long silence. 

He let it stretch out between them, so many words unsaid, hand stuffed in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“They’re scared of me,” she finally said, turning back to face him, eyes wide.

He looked at her, then his feet, then back up before nodding. “Yeah, yeah they are.” 

She pressed her lips together hard enough edges went white. “This isn’t how I’d imagined,” she said after another silence.

He didn’t know what she wanted him to say so he just chewed the inside of his cheek. She was thinner than she’d been, somehow more delicate. He wanted to fold her into his arms and inhale the scent of her hair: cheap shampoo and a hint of stale sweat. 

It was late and no one passed to interrupt them. No one passed and Kara couldn’t change the topic. She sat down hard on one of the storage containers and after a moment he sat beside her. She uncorked the bottled, offering it to him before taking a long draw. It burned down her throat and she sighs.

“He won’t speak to me. I don’t know why.” She stared down at her shoes, tapping the toes together. The plastic made a hollow sound in the deserted corridor. She took another drink before meeting his eyes, a sad little smile playing around the corner of her mouth.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him as they watched the candles flicker and burn, the dead their silent witnesses.


End file.
